


What We Leave Behind

by cassbuttandsquirrel



Series: Family Ties [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower, Post-Season/Series 12, but nothing is really stated, but you don't need to read it, gen fic because there's only shipping if you read into it, so technically this is destiel, technically this is set after my other fic, teen for mentions of attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 08:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16193867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassbuttandsquirrel/pseuds/cassbuttandsquirrel
Summary: Cas is dead and Dean leaves on a hunting trip the morning of Cas's funeral.This is the aftermath.





	What We Leave Behind

**Author's Note:**

> First off - yes this can be read in the context of my other oneshot "Family Ties" but it is not necessary. What you need to know is that after 12x23 Dean and Sam delay burning Cas's body so that the entire family can say goodbye. (In my headcanon they go to Jody's and then bring Cas back to the bunker to have a real 'hunters funeral' like we saw with Asa Fox.)  
> Second - yes this title is very similar to the 10x09 episode title but I didn't have a title so I stole that idea.  
> Third - yes I know this fic has a tense change half way through. This is not intentional, but it works well enough to be possibly intentional so I'm not going to change it. 
> 
> Finally - Disclaimer: I own none of these characters or the show Supernatural
> 
> Thanks and Enjoy!!
> 
> ** TRIGGER WARNING FOR MENTIONS OF ATTEMPTED SUICIDE **  
> please be careful if this is something that will affect you!

“Sammy?”

“Dean.” Sam's voice was deadened with exhaustion as he gave a relieved sigh. 

“I…” Dean bit his lip as another tear traced it's way down his cheek and he took a shaky breath. 

“I need to you pick me up.”

\------

Dean was sitting with his head in his hands on Baby's front seat when Sam pulled into the BigGersons parking lot. He raised his head at the noise of the younger Winchester slamming the door of the old 1980s Corolla closed. Sam strode toward him with purposeful steps.  

Dean looked at Sam through bleary eyes. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Sam parroted the word and pressed his lips in to a thin line. “Move over.” 

Dean swung his legs back into the Impala, shuffling along the bench seat until he reached the passenger side. Sam folded his larger frame into place behind the wheel. Neither of them commented on the abandoned Corolla as Sam backed the impala out of the parking spot - Dean knew that Sam had probably hotwired it anyways. 

There was silence in the car and it made Dean feel sick. After a half hour had passed Dean finally spoke

“So I got a call from Matt about this vamp nest in town and he-”

“Dean- stop.” Sam's voice cut him off. “Just stop.”

There were blackbirds circling the field of wheat running parallel to the road, diving in and out of sight between the stalks. 

“Ya know,” Sam started up again, quiet and rough. “I am terrified-” his voice wavered on the last word and the pit in Dean's stomach got heavier. “I am terrified,” Sam stressed the word even as his knuckles whitened on the steering wheel, “ of losing you, Dean. And I am terrified of something hurting you that I can't fix. And I'm terrified of having to fix you because I wouldn't even know where to start, especially…” Sam didn't finish his sentence but Dean heard what he wouldn't say.  _ Especially now. Now that Bobby was gone and Charlie was gone and Mom was gone and Cas was -- _

“I am terrified, Dean. And I am fucking  _ sick _ of pretending to believe your bullshit just because I'm such a goddamn  _ coward _ . _ ” _  Sam's hand appeared in Dean's periphery as he angrily wiped wetness from his face. He took a steadying breath before continuing. 

“So enough with all this crap, Dean. I know you're not fine. And I don't think you've been fine for a while.”

 

The wheat fields had turned into rolling green tapestries and Dean found himself tracing imaginary lines along the trees that marked barriers between properties. 

 

“I tried to kill myself.” Dean's voice felt rusty in his throat, the iron honesty bringing the tang of it into his mouth. 

Sam didn't turn to look at him but kept his eyes straight ahead as his throat worked up and down. 

“Not, you know, in the usual ways but,” now that he had begun Dean knew he was going to be telling the whole story. “I did my best.”

He fiddled with the zipper on his jacket before he snorted, “Well, clearly not my  _ best _ .” 

The leather of the steering wheel creaked as Sam gripped it tighter than it ever had been. 

“It was the last vamp of the nest.” Dean pulled his hands away from his jacket to pick at a hangnail. “I, uh, went home with her. And -” he shrugged, “it didn't go to plan.”

Sam’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Did you kill her?”

Dean risked a glance over, but his brother still sat with his eyes trained on the asphalt, back ramrod straight and jaw clenched. 

“In the end I did, yeah.” 

Sam nodded. 

“She found my duffle and the machete the next morning and when I got up she… confronted me. I guess she had, uh, figured out by then what I was trying to do.”

His fingers were slippery with blood having worried the hangnail to far. 

“So I figured what the hell right? And then I drove. And then I called you.” 

 

There was an ancient gas station moving past them, brown with rust and age and boarded up from inuse. Dean followed the path of the chipped blue stripe that wrapped around the edge of the overhang. 

 

“You've been drinking.” Sam took a brief moment to nod in the rearview mirror at the mess of bottles in the back seat. 

“Have been for a long time Sammy,” Dean bit out before relenting, “I thought it would help but.” He didn't bother finishing his sentence. 

 

The trees where getting taller outside of his window and blurring dark and light greens in above them. 

 

“We burned him without you, you realise? Time didn't just stop when you left.”

Dean felt the prick of tears again but he couldn't gather the energy to let them fall. 

 

The wheat was back, but the blackbirds seemed to have settled. Dean counted how many he could see perched atop the shivering ears. 

 

“Claire was really pissed that you weren’t there.”

Sam seemed to be getting worked up again as he breathed heavily through his nose. 

“And you know what the sickest part was? I had to defend you, Dean. I had to defend you. Your stupid selfish dangerous decision and I had to -” he stopped short, lips thinning and fingers flexing against the wheel.

 

“I didn’t ask you to defend me.” The words fall so softly out of Dean’s mouth that he’s almost surprised he’s saying them.

 

Sam’s eyes are wild with hurt and anger, “You didn’t ask me to- ? You didn’t ask -? Dean! You left without saying anything! You’re just  _ gone _ with a one word note on the kitchen table.”

 

The corn has suddenly become pasture and Dean can’t tell if there are sheep or cows in the field as the fence posts whip by his window.

 

“Just ‘Hunting’.” Sam’s knuckles are going white again, “What was I supposed to do with  _ that _ Dean?”

 

Dean takes a quick glance over to watch the speedometer creep closer and closer to 90.

 

“You know, you think that you leaving doesn’t affect anyone. You think you can just leave whenever and the people at home will do just fine without you. Well news-flash, Dean, we’re not. And we aren’t.”

 

“And you know what? You were dumb and you were selfish to leave like that. Did you ever think for a second that Mom needed you? That Claire needed you?” Sam’s hands are flexing again and his chin trembles. “That I needed you?”

 

Suddenly all Dean can hear is 7-year-old Sammy curled up alone in the corner of a motel couch crying into a cushion, Sam at 11 asking him why it was just so hard to make friends, Sammy at 17 breaking down when Dad lit his college brochures on fire. 

 

“Sam -” Dean starts, his chest hollow and aching.

 

“No, Dean, no.” Sam’s wiping his eyes again and shaking his head. “Just don’t, okay? I’m done talking.”

 

Sam angrily pushes a button on the dash and sound suddenly fills the space between them. Dean turns back to the window, nails biting into his palms as he holds back tears of self-pity and regret. He has no idea what’s outside his window; everything blurs into green-blue-brown-yellow and so he closes his eyes and pretends to sleep.  

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in my head for a while so I decided to get it out there.  
> Also I feel very connected with Sam in this fic as I too am a youngest and a lot of what Sam says are things that I really want to get out of my heart, so here they are!  
> Much love to you and to your family.  
> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
